


Alone for the Holidays

by DroughtofApathy



Series: A Thousand Lifetimes [32]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Holiday, Light Angst, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroughtofApathy/pseuds/DroughtofApathy
Summary: Evelyn Chambers, CEO of RedStone Web, hated the holiday season. Which was why she'd elected to spend her Christmas Eve alone in her office. And if she'd put on a pretty dress and took extra care with her makeup, well that was no one's business but hers. Still, she could have done without the humiliation of her employee, Clara Masterson, walking in on her crying over her wine glass. Then again, maybe it wasn't such a terrible thing after all.





	Alone for the Holidays

Evelyn Chambers, CEO of RedStone Web, hated the holiday season. The holidays were for religious people, or people with loved ones, or people with fond childhood memories of Santa Clause and yule logs. And because Evelyn was and had neither, she hated the holiday season. Which was why, on Christmas Eve, Evelyn found herself in front of a mountain of paperwork in her office. The prospect of spending the night alone in her apartment, or drinking away her melancholy feelings in some bar felt somehow even worse than this, so here she was.

And so what if she decided to pin up her red curls, or touch up her makeup before leaving? It was just something she did every day, and her hair would have gotten in the way. And so what if she wore a little black dress a bit too fancy for office work, or slipped on her best black pumps? It wasn’t like anyone else could tell her not to. And so what if- but Evelyn was lying to herself. And she knew it. Gods, of course she knew it. I mean, gods, she’d brought her best table setting with her to eat leftovers from the holiday party. Staring at the plate of food, Evelyn knew she was pathetic.

Because really, she didn’t hate the holidays. She didn’t hate the cheery atmosphere, and festive music. She didn’t hate the romanticized wish for snow on Christmas Eve, or even wrapping presents. Although, she admittedly _did_ hate those cheesy Hallmark movies that went on for about two months straight. They were just so…white and heterosexual. She just wished...she just wished she had someone to wrap a present for, or stroll in the park on a crisp snowy night, or even just sing along to Here We Come a Wassailing. But she didn’t, so really, she hated this holiday, and she hated being reminded that she was utterly alone.

It wasn’t always like this. Oh, sure, her childhood memories of the holiday season were lackluster at best, but they weren’t horrible. The holidays were simply there. Nothing more. But when Evelyn went off to college, she met her first girlfriend. And her girlfriend loved Christmas and New Years and everything that came with it. The moment Thanksgiving ended, the Christmas music came on, and it didn’t stop until midway through January. And Evelyn couldn’t help but love it right along with her. But they didn’t work out, and for a few years, the Holidays went right back to being just something that happened.

Three girlfriends later, Evelyn had loved and hated the Holidays just as many times. Now, Evelyn couldn’t help noticing the years passing best at this time of year. When everyone else had someone to share it with, it was that much more glaring that Evelyn was alone. Not even a friend, or casual acquaintance. Evelyn was good at running a corporation, but apparently that was it. She worked almost constantly, and didn’t have time for personal relationships. Any other time of year, it never really mattered, but everyone had _someone_ , and she just didn’t.

As Evelyn absently pushed food back and forth on her plate, she began taking the pins out of her hair. There was no point in looking like she had her life put together. She ran a hand through her scalp, separating the curls. Then, giving up on the pretense of doing paperwork, shoved the stacks aside. Evelyn poured herself a glass of wine, wondering why she bothered with the glass at all.

Outside, the city still bustled about, just as it always did. But it was quieter. Gazing down twenty stories at the street, Evelyn felt as though she were miles away from anyone. She was lonely. There. She admitted it. Evelyn Chambers, successful businesswoman, was so fucking lonely that she wanted to sob. Unwillingly, a single tear rolled down her cheek. Stubbornly, she brushed it away, but it was too late. More tears soon followed, as she tried in vain to hold herself together.

So caught up in her own loneliness, she didn’t hear the elevator ding. Dressed in dark jeans, and a leather jacket entirely unsuitable for the cold, Clara Masterson stepped out. If Evelyn Chambers hated the holiday season, Clara Masterson _hated_ it. She hated the cold, she hated those movies, she hated the commercialized epitome of capitalism it had become. Which, she recognized was a strange thing for a Chief Research Officer of a corporation to hate, but there you have it. She didn’t hate the music, though. On the contrary, she always enjoyed a bit of Angela Lansbury’s We Need a Little Christmas. But the rest of it, as far as Clara was concerned, could eat dirt and die.

Stewing in her own annoyance, she almost didn’t notice the light on in Evelyn’s office. In fact, she would have gone right by were it not for the muffled gasps.

“Evelyn?” Clara hovered by the door, uncertainly. She and Evelyn weren’t exactly close, but Clara held the woman in high regard. The rest of the company thought the two women were unbreakable. Clara had once overheard one intern say Evelyn was an impenetrable wall of ice, and Clara a destructive ring of fire. Personally, Clara thought he gave her too much credit, but she wasn’t about to correct him. But now, here was that wall of ice, melting away.

“Don’t,” Evelyn said, harshly. She turned away, not wanting Clara to see her tears. But it was too late for that. Sighing, Clara pushed herself off of the door frame, softly repeating Evelyn’s name. And Evelyn just knew what Clara must have thought of her. “I don’t need your pity, Clara. I know I’m pathetic, so I don’t need to hear it from anyone, least of all you.”

Clara stiffened. But, she said, she knew Evelyn was upset, so she wouldn’t take it too personally.  She didn’t say anything else for a moment, taking the time to root around in her overly-large bag for a tissue. It gave her an opportunity to see the other woman more closely.

“Okay, Evelyn. First of all,” Clara said. “I don’t think you’re pathetic. Not even remotely. All I know is that you’re here alone on Christmas Eve, dressed to the nines, and clearly upset. So, I’m going to ask you what’s wrong. You don’t need to answer me. But, I want to help you, if I can. So, please let me help you.”

Evelyn scoffed, voice catching. But she couldn’t help but believe her. Clara was many things. She was perhaps the only other woman more likely to be called a bitch than Evelyn herself. But she was never this kind, and Evelyn wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. And, if she were being honest, she needed _someone_.

“I’m just…I’m just so alone. And everyone else has someone, even you. But I don’t even have so much as a cat to go home to.” There it was. Everything was out in the open now. She waited for Clara to roll her eyes, or silently judge her, but the other woman did neither of those things. Instead, she reached out, gently rubbing her thumb over Evelyn’s wrist.

“You feel alone?” Clara asked. “Fine, let’s change that right now. We’ve got two potential options here. We could stay here, in this frigid office and pretend to do paperwork until one of us gives up and goes home alone. Or we could get out of here. I don’t like the holidays, okay? Really, I hate them, but I’m here on Christmas Eve too. Because I couldn’t stand to be alone in my apartment on a night like this either. And, I’m not exactly a social person, so did you maybe want to head back to my place? I mean, we could pick up some wine or whatever you want really. I don’t drink much, but I’ve got some harder liquor I use for baking. And I can probably fix us something to eat. I can’t guarantee it won’t be any more or less sad than that plate you’ve got there, but I guess what I’m saying is…come home with me?”

And gods help her, Evelyn said yes. They ended up walking back. Evelyn needed the crisp air to clear her head, and Clara decided she could suffer the twenty blocks if it meant Evelyn was comfortable. It was seven blocks before she noticed Clara trying not to shiver uncontrollably. Rolling her eyes at the woman’s woefully inadequate jacket, Clara pulled the smaller woman closer. Unused to physical contact, it took Clara another seven blocks to finally relax into it. But Evelyn was stubborn enough not to give up.

Clara’s apartment was…well it was exactly what Evelyn might have expected if she ever really thought about it. Everything, from the furniture to the curtains, matched perfectly. Nothing, not even a cup, was out of place. Delightedly, Evelyn reached down to pet a small, fluffy dog.

“That’s Christina Alexandra, King of Sweden. She’s probably part of the mafia, or something,” Clara commented, pouring Evelyn a shot of vodka. “Make yourself at home, there’s holiday music hooked up to the speaker. Just press play.”

Smiling in thanks, Evelyn downed the shot. The moment she sat down on the couch, the little dog hopped up, wagging her tail expectantly. Indulgently, Evelyn stroked the possible-mafia dog. Already she felt better. Softly, the dulcet tones of Michael Bublé filled the room. Clara sat down next to her, tucking up her legs under her. Now that they were here, both woman suddenly felt awkward. Though they’d worked together for years, they’d never actually really spoken about anything personal before. And now, Evelyn was in Clara’s apartment, petting her royal dog, and eating her food. Evelyn knew Clara in a professional capacity better than anyone. But this was uncharted territory.

“Your hair,” Clara said, after the silence stretched on uncomfortably. “It, well, it looks lovely like this.” Blushing, Evelyn thanked her. She suddenly felt infinitely warmer. It had been longer than she thought since anyone had said something like that to her. And she didn’t need the validation, but it was still nice. And Clara was _looking_ at her, really looking. Squirming slightly under Clara’s gaze, she self-consciously brushed her hair over her right shoulder.

“Clara, I…I just really need to thank you for this. I needed it. I, um, it’s been awhile since I’ve done anything outside of work. I have to admit that I really don’t know what to do, or talk about.”

Clara shrugged, absently petting Christina Alexandria, King of Sweden. She didn’t really interact with people outside of work either, but she supposed they could talk about their lives or how much they hated the holidays or whatever really.

But Evelyn didn’t have a life outside of work. So, Clara bit the bullet. With some trepidation, she told Evelyn about her only hobby. Clara loved to write. Ever since she was a child, actually. And, granted, she would probably kill a man to keep those writings from ever getting out, but some of them were at least halfway decent. She was much better now, but didn’t think she was anything special.

“Could I read something of yours?” Evelyn asked, tentatively. Wincing, Clara refused to give in even after Evelyn stuck out her bottom lip. She would never admit how adorable she found it. But somehow, the thought of Evelyn Chambers reading hot lesbian smut scenes as she herself sat inches away, well, that was a bit much even for the likes of Clara Masterson. Seeing that Clara could outlast her own stubbornness on any day, Evelyn gave up, instead just sitting comfortably. She watched through half-lidded eyes as Clara began clearing their dishes.

As she sat, inhaling the pleasant aroma of Clara’s apartment, she let herself daydream. In her mind, she was in another time. A time where Christmas season meant more than holiday bonuses, and lonely nights. A time where Evelyn had someone in her arms to keep the winter chill at bay. But as she dreamed, the woman in her arms was not a nameless, faceless person. It was not the women of the past. It was Clara.

Clara was attractive. Evelyn didn’t understand how she couldn’t have seen it before. She was beautiful, not to mention ridiculously smart. And the more Evelyn thought about it, the more she wanted it. And, office romances weren’t strictly forbidden. Sure, her being the boss might raise some eyebrows, but male CEOs did it all the time, so why couldn’t she?

And the more she thought about it, the more right it felt. Clara seemed to always be able to know exactly what she needed. Clara who was usually so aloof, yet showed Evelyn another side. And she wanted more of that. She wanted more of Clara.

“Clara,” Evelyn said, suddenly, sitting up. Clara jumped, trying to pretend she wasn’t staring at Evelyn’s reflection out of the corner of her eye. “Clara, I-I was-I was wondering if maybe sometime you might want to do this again?” Clara tilted her head at Evelyn’s uncharacteristic stuttering. “I-I mean in a date, maybe. I don’t know. It’s totally up to you, um, so…what do you think about dinner?”

Clara didn’t respond. The silence stretched on, until Evelyn got the hint. Bowing her head in embarrassment, she stood to leave. Crestfallen, Evelyn silently pet the little dog before reaching for her coat. A hand caught her wrist, gently pulling her back.

“I’d love to,” Clara said, smiling. Shocked, Evelyn stared at her open-mouthed. Laughing quietly, Clara leaned in. She had to stand on her toes because Evelyn was so much taller than her. But it was definitely worth it. Pushing the taller woman gently against the front door, she intertwined their fingers as Evelyn ran her tongue across her lips.

“Happy holidays, Evelyn,” Clara whispered, pulling away. She wiped at Evelyn’s smeared lipstick with her thumb, only succeeding in making the red smudges worse. Evelyn smiled, blushing. That night, curling up on the couch with Christina Alexandra, King of Sweden, the two women fell asleep to the sounds of Judy Garland. Clara still hated the holidays, and Evelyn still couldn’t see the magic in them, but maybe with someone else to share it with, next year wouldn’t be so bad after all. 


End file.
